


The Fall of the Bunker of Winchester

by TheYmp



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Creepy, Cthulhu Mythos, Disturbing Themes, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gaslighting, Insanity, Lovecraftian, M/M, Minor Character Death, Non-Consensual, Tentacles, Unhappy Ending, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-28 02:23:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21129221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheYmp/pseuds/TheYmp
Summary: Sam becomes obsessed with tales of an ancient, alien evil and an old puzzle box he unearths in a hidden library beneath the bunker.  As Castiel and Jack look on in concern at the brothers' increasingly erratic behavior, will Sam's hunger for knowledge prove to be their ultimate undoing?





	The Fall of the Bunker of Winchester

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the **2019 Supernatural Eldritch Bang** on [LiveJournal](https://spneldritchbang.livejournal.com/)/[Tumblr](https://spneldritchbang.tumblr.com/) \- thank you for all the sprints on Discord!
> 
> Thanks to [emmatheslayer](https://emmatheslayer.livejournal.com/) for the artwork.

[ ](https://emmatheslayer.livejournal.com/604638.html)

** _"...common human laws and emotions have no validity or significance in the cosmos-at-large" - H. P. Lovecraft_ **

Sam and Dean hadn't had a case for a couple of weeks, and now even Castiel and Jack had abandoned them in favor of some kind of angel-Nephilim retreat. So, at an unaccustomed loose end, Sam had been browsing through the stacks in the bunker's library. He'd even managed to browbeat Dean into joining him.

It was probably the longest time they'd ever spent at leisure looking through the old journals. Normally, they were all hell-for-leather concentrating on researching a particular case. It was... well, honestly, it was a lot duller than Sam had expected.

_Would it have hurt them to make their journals just a little bit more interesting?_ he thought petulantly. _It's not like we're getting_ _the big bucks for this - satisfaction for saving lives_ _is all very well, but sadly it doesn't_ _pay our grocery bill, let alone cover the gas for getting there._

He paused, sure for a moment that someone had called his name. Deciding it was nothing, he turned back to re-read the previous paragraph. "That's odd," he said aloud to himself.

"Wuh?" said Dean as he jolted awake, reaching for a weapon with one hand while he caught the copy of Busty Asian Beauties that slipped out from behind his own journal with the other. It amused Sam as it wasn't like he really cared if Dean read the research or not, he just wanted the easy comfort of his brother's presence.

"It's fine. Go back to sleep," Sam snorted. He looked back at the journal and, from long habit, explained himself anyway. "It's by one of the Men of Letters' more senior librarians, a Dr. Henry Armitage. To be honest, most of it reads likes the ravings of a madman, but he does write about the huge collection of research he's amassed to fight against some ancient, alien evil that exists outside of our reality."

"Doesn't it always," Dean muttered sleepily.

Sam dismissed the comment with a pointed look and continued his explanation. "Apparently, it's lying in wait for the right moment to swoop in and destroy the world, or the universe, or something. He's a bit vague of that aspect."

"All sounds very _Lovecraft_," snorted Dean dismissively, now wide awake thanks to his brother's lecturing tone. "Are you sure you've not picked up some kind of _D&D_ manual by mistake?"

Sam pulled his stock unimpressed face at the interruption before continuing. "So, he writes in here about an additional archive in sub-basement level five."

"And _that's_ why you woke me up?" complained Dean, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Sam shook his head. "If you weren't half asleep, you'd have noted that there's nothing here in the bunker that's signposted as deeper than a level _three_."

Dean quirked an eyebrow. "A hidden library?"

"Yep," Sam replied, making the 'p' sound pop with a happy grin.

Dean snorted. "Don't get your hopes up. It just means it's probably so dull that they bricked it up."

"Yes, but are you as bored as me that you're willing to go look?"

Dean laughed his agreement. "Yeah, but I'd also do just about anything to stop your moping too. Don't worry, I'm sure they'll be back soon, and then you can tell _Jack_ all about it."

"I don't know what you mean," replied Sam with a confused frown.

"No, of course you don't," said Dean with an amused shake of his head at the foolishness of oblivious brothers. "Come on then, let's go look for your secret library, you big nerd."

~#~

"Well, that didn't take long," complained Dean, with a disgruntled, desultory kick at the shelving at the far corner of level three that had swung open to reveal a crude doorway.

Level four wasn't much to talk about either; the poorly hidden staircase led down to a small chamber barely the size of one of the bedrooms, the walls lined with near-empty shelves. The next staircase down was blocked with loose piles of rubble.

"What do you think?" asked Sam as he poked a crowbar at the debris blocking the stairwell.

Dean glared at the obstruction. "Yeah, it's not too badly packed, I reckon with a couple of pickaxes we oughta be able to clear it pretty easily. I don't know about you, but I reckon we should call it a day for now, go get some chow and start fresh in the morning."

Sam leaned over and stared down into the darkness. It didn't take much imagination to think of pale, slimy creatures oozing and squirming around in the shadowy depths. He shuddered, the thought of Dean's food no longer appealing to him. Sometimes, he didn't know how his own mind worked.

"Morning sounds good," he agreed, only regretful that in the bunker there was no respite from the darkness. He could seriously use a dose of the cold light of day just about now. It was always so dull and gloomy down here. He looked around the room with the strange feeling that he'd forgotten something.

Dean tapped him on the shoulder. "I said: I'll go cook us some dinner if you wanna poke around down here some more."

Sam nodded. The thought felt strangely compelling yet also repulsive at the same time. He grunted his agreement absently, not noticing Dean leave, as he felt himself drawn to the contents of the shelves.

~#~

"So, did you find anything?" asked Dean, passing Sam a plate of food before tucking into his own with gusto.

Sam nodded his thanks at the burger placed before him, but only prodded at it. "There wasn't much," he said. "It was mainly old documents, all yellowed and ragged, and mainly just duplicates of what's already in the libraries up here." Despite his usual love of all things old and papery, he'd been uninterested and had kept looking through the slim pickings.

When he'd picked up the fist-sized cube, he'd felt a spark of _something_. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't almost missed it. But, despite that it was covered in dust and buried behind a pile of old invoices for stationery, it was as if he'd been drawn to it - like his body had somehow known where the thing was and taken him to it under its own volition.

Even before he'd wiped away the thick coating of grime, he _knew_ it was something special. He'd rubbed it clean on his shirt and spent the next almost-hour playing with it, his fingers flickering and dancing over the surface that was inlaid with numerous, complex, smooth-sliding components.

Now, it sat in his jacket pocket while he instead prodded and poked at his food without eating.

He felt a strange reluctance to show the puzzle box to his brother. It was an odd possessiveness that was part shyness, part fear of having it mocked or taken away from him. _I'm kinda making it sound like a new date_, he thought, discretely reaching into his pocket to touch the cube once more for reassurance. _Not that there's been anyone serious for a while_, he thought mournfully. He felt empty, lonely despite Dean's usual noisy presence, and with a sudden pang for... _something_.

"Whatcha got there?" asked Dean.

Sam cursed to himself. He'd been too quiet, too obvious. Feeling trapped, he reluctantly removed the puzzle box from his pocket and held it out for Dean to see, but was careful to keep it just beyond his brother's reach. There was something unsettlingly organic about it, Sam decided, despite its sleek, black-lacquered surface. As it lay in his hand, he could picture it as a squat, malevolent toad that at any moment might leap into sudden action. Fortunately, nothing of the sort happened, Dean merely snorted and shook his head before taking another bite of his burger.

"Sheesh, first _Lovecraft_ now _Barker_?" sighed Dean. "Dude, if you summon _Pinhead_ with that thing, I don't care how old you are, you're grounded, you hear me?"

Sam snorted in amusement, despite the flare of annoyance he felt towards his brother. He tucked the puzzle box back into his pocket with a reassuring pat before Dean could change his mind about snatching it away from him. "I'm- I'm gonna go hit the sack."

Dean put aside the rest of his burger with the reluctant, sorrowful sigh of someone whose eyes were bigger than their belly. "Yeah, not a bad idea, let's see what tomorrow brings."

Sam wandered away from the table, already running his hands over the surface of the puzzle box once again.

"Yeah, that's it - don't worry about helping me clear up after I cooked you a meal you barely touched, you go play with your new toy," muttered Dean.

"Cool," replied Sam. "Thanks," he added in a distracted voice as Dean mumbled something else under his breath.

~#~

Everything felt too real for him to be asleep, but Sam knew he was dreaming. He was in the bunker -- that he knew instinctively -- but like many a dream, the details were out of sync with reality. The interior seemed darker, the ceilings lower, and he inexplicably knew he was deeper underground.

He was chasing after Jack through long, winding, unending corridors. Despite his longer legs and superior physical fitness, he couldn't catch up with the younger man, no matter how fast he ran. He turned a corner and came to a stop. Jack was nowhere in sight.

In front of him was the room on level four.

The staircase leading down was no longer blocked, but it remained dark, unlit, and unsettling. He marveled at what he saw; all that arcane knowledge was laid out at his feet, but it nevertheless filled him with fear. _Under all circumstances, it has to be stopped_, he thought. He knew instinctively down to the very core of his being that the written lies that had kept him bound, gagged, and trapped couldn't be allowed to continue.

He awoke in an instant as if a switch had been thrown.

Without conscious thought, he reached for the puzzle box that sat on the table beside his bed. He pursed his lips in annoyance as he took note of the configuration.

_Someone else has been playing with it._

~#~

It took an age to get into the rest of the cavern, far longer than he'd expected or hoped. Sam's arms and shoulders still thrummed with an unpleasant, not-quite numb sensation from swinging the pickaxe that he knew he was going to seriously regret the next day. But for now, there was a moment of triumph as the last of the unwieldy, heavy stones were heaved to one side, opening the way for him and Dean to descend further into darkness.

With bated breath, they took the last few steps into the cold, damp chamber.

An icy drop of water splashed its way messily down the inside of Sam's collar. His grimace of distaste turned to something more severe as his brain caught up with the implications.

Every single scroll, document, and book was soaked through. Had been soaked through for a very long time, it appeared.

Sam lifted up one volume only to produce a shower of black mold and for the last third of the book to remain in place as a solid congealed lump.

"No," he moaned, as he realized that the other notes and journal were also all completely destroyed by water damage. "All the knowledge of how to stop it, gone. Lost forever," cried Sam, devastated beyond words to describe how he felt.

Dean looked at him askance. "It's okay, it just some journals."

Sam was beside himself, shaking with impotent rage. "I can't believe they could have been so foolish. Everything else the Men of Letters did was so meticulous, so careful and measured: why entrust their greatest secrets to a natural cave with... with..."

"En-suite running water?" snorted Dean. He shrugged at Sam's offended look. "I get the guy was pretty passionate about this stuff, but maybe he was a little bit _too_ passionate about it?"

"Huh?"

"You know, like _crazy_."

Sam's shoulders dropped in resignation, and he gave a reluctant nod of agreement.

"Still, at least you've still got the puzzle box thing," added Dean trying to inject a note of enthusiasm into his voice.

"Yes, except we don't know what it is or what it does," Sam huffed, instinctively placing his hand on it within his jacket pocket. "Or even if it _actually_ does anything at all."

"As I said, the guy was mad. Maybe it's just one of those _whaddayacallits_ that the young kids go for these days? You know, it's just some silly thing to keep your hands busy and distracted so you can concentrate on more important stuff."

Sam frowned until Dean demonstrated the motion with his hands. "Ah... _fidget spinners_," supplied Sam blushing.

"Yeah, that's it," Dean replied, seeming to only belatedly catch the signs of Sam's embarrassment. He cocked his head in query, a habit he'd increasingly adopted from Castiel that Sam simultaneously found equal measures adorable and amusing.

"I do find it very soothing," admitted Sam. He didn't mention that he found the puzzle box more relaxing than anything he'd ever tried before, including his dalliances with both meditation and mindfulness. It eased his mind and his... soul.

This minor admission only seemed to make Dean angry. He frowned as he held one hand up to the side of his head as if grappling with a headache or straining to hear a faint one-sided conversation via a poor phone connection. It was one of those times Sam could swear that his brother was able see down to his core or read his thoughts.

"No," said Dean. "That isn't it. You've been playing with that thing constantly like some little kid with a new toy. I know I joked about it before, but dude, you seem _obsessed_."

Sam shrugged.

"I'm surprised," continued Dean, his voice rising. "We don't know what the hell it is or what it does. Seriously, it's the sort of thing I can imagine _me_ doing, not you. I thought you had more sense." He didn't mention that that was precisely what he had done.

Just the night before, he'd come running into Sam's room at the sounds of distress only to stand by idly while his brother jerked and moaned in the grips of some intense nightmare. He had stood and played with the puzzle box except that, rather than soothing, he'd found it jarring and fraught with unexpectedly rough and sharp edges, as much mentally as also physically. It was like the puzzle box itself had known he wasn't the right person, not the right fit. _For it_.

Besides, Dean didn't believe in the concept of a happy coincidence, he'd been at its sharp-end way too often and had had such foolish notions well and truly beaten out of him.

"You know," he said, startling Sam after long silence as they trudged their weary way back to the bunker's upper level. "In all the years we've lived down here, after reading all those goddamn boring journals, this is the first time we ever _seen_ a mention of these 'Outer Gods' but you know, it's not the first time we've _heard_ about them."

Sam's frown faded as he figured out what his brother was talking about. "You're thinking about the Leviathan?"

Dean nodded. "There was that doctor, you know, the one Bobby was sweet on?"

"Eleanor Visyak?" Sam's face hardened at his memory of that time. "Cas killed her."

"Yeah, not his finest hour, true," said Dean with a wince. "But I was thinking, if she was a professor at a university, maybe she taught someone else what she knew."

Sam nodded in agreement as he dropped down in a seat in the library while reaching for his laptop. "Not a bad idea."

"Don't sound so surprised," said Dean with fake outrage. "I do have them from time to time."

"Yeah, I guess you've reached your quota for this year then?" laughed Sam as he waited for his computer to boot while dodging a playful slap from Dean. "I'll see if I can find who's in her post now... Oh... that's strange." He clicked and re-clicked at the page.

"What?"

"Um... Apparently, she's still working there now."

~#~

Sam and Dean followed Eleanor into her house and sat down obediently on the sofa as indicated. It was a floral, highly-patterned, chintzy print that was far more horrifying than the ancient entity that now hovered before them serving afternoon tea.

"So... we thought you were dead," said Dean, getting down to business as he made a point of taking two of the cookies from the offered plate.

Eleanor arched one immaculate eyebrow as she settled into the armchair opposite. "Funny, I heard the same about you two, and yet, here we all are."

The unspoken words were quite clear: _I crawled my way in from another dimension. Did you really think I'd be so easy to kill?_

Sam coughed to cover the awkwardness. "So, you're from Purgatory..."

Eleanor sipped her tea and gave him a tight smile. "Yes, I did come in _via_ Purgatory, but that's not where I'm from originally." Her nostrils flared, and she seemed to consider her words, leaning back in her seat before continuing. "You know about other worlds, I can smell the faint trace of them still lingering on your flesh..."

Sam shifted uncomfortably at the mental image that conjured.

"But they're still _related_ worlds," continued Ellie. "Like different grapes growing in a bunch, all pressing in close together on the same vine."

Dean frowned. "And so, what you're saying is you come from another bunch or another vine."

"Not quite," Ellie smirked. "Who do you think planted the vine? Runs the farm? _Makes the wine?_"

They sat in stunned silence. Sam felt a moment of what he could only have described as overwhelming existential dread. Perhaps it was that he strongly suspected that the farming/food analogy was more relevant than perhaps Eleanor was suggesting.

"Your Purgatory," Ellie sneered. "Well... let's just say it's like the _Disney_ version of the one I'm used to."

"And Bobby never realized you weren't human?" Dean muttered, the muscles working in his jaw. Sam recognized all the signs that his brother was on the verge of explosively losing his temper.

Eleanor sighed, some of the humanity returning to her face as she was lost in reminiscing. "Ah, dear Bobby. I'm so very sad I won't ever see him again, but I'll always have my memories. He was a very sensuous lover."

"I think I just vomited in my mouth," said Dean under his breath to Sam.

Eleanor gave him an unimpressed glare. "I'm just relieved that he passed on beyond the _Great Reaping_."

"Huh?" asked both Sam and Dean in unison.

"Oh, you know, when the Outer Gods finally break into this reality and suck up all the souls," she said airily, waving an arm around to encompass their surroundings. "To consume them," she clarified unnecessarily.

Sam and Dean stared at her in stunned silence.

_I guess the food analogy wasn't an analogy after all_, thought Sam, gloomily.

Mouth agape, Dean looked from Sam to Eleanor and back in confusion. "So are you saying we should take this seriously? What about the puzzle thing Sam found with all that stuff, is that part of it too?"

"May I see?" Eleanor asked, leaning forward and holding out an eager hand.

Noting Sam's slow hesitation at handing the puzzle box over, Dean snatched it from his grasp with an irritated snarl and passed it to Eleanor unmindful of his brother's glare.

Eleanor stiffened as she made physical contact with it. "It does feel... connected," she admitted, running her hands over the surface, but keeping short of actually manipulating the sliding parts. "My advice is to leave it well enough alone. I would... well, I'd be more than willing to take it off your hands. Purely for safekeeping, of course."

Dean was on his feet and taking a step forward before he knew what he was doing. "Nah, y'know what? I think we can take it from here," he said, snatching the puzzle box from Eleanor's grasp and passing it back to Sam.

They hurriedly made their excuses and left, ignoring Eleanor's scowl of displeasure.

"What was that all about?" asked Sam once they were outside.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Well, did you really want the creepy 900-year old lady monster-thing from another dimension to be left playing with your new Hell-cube toy?"

"No..." said Sam, startling them both with the intensity of his response.

"Exactly," replied Dean, tapping Sam hard on the chest. "Now, let's get out of here before she sprouts tentacles and tries to drag us back in there."

"I thought you _liked_ tentacles," teased Sam, trying to break the tension. "Or rather, that's what your browser history would seem to suggest."

"I already explained," said Dean with a long-suffering sigh. "That must have been some kind of pop-up I didn't notice last time I was doing research."

"Ah," hummed Sam in amusement. "So _that's_ what you call it."

"Enough of your nonsense," said Dean, easing into the driving seat of the Impala. "All of your arguing is making me hungry. I need pie."

~#~

Defeated, Dean pushed away his plate with a sigh and leaned back in his seat.

"You finished?" asked Sam, who'd already devoured his own meal.

"Knock yourself out; no point wasting it," Dean said, passing his half-finished pie to Sam. He chuckled at the way near-frantic way his brother grabbed it. "_You're_ eating well."

Sam shrugged as he ate. "I'm a growing boy," he laughed around his mouthful.

"If you were any taller, we'd never fit you in the bunker," Dean snorted. "But you could do with a bit more meat on your bones."

"You're probably not wrong there," agreed Sam. "Is it me, or is it cold in here?" he looked around for his coat and frowned when he couldn't see it on the seat beside him where he was sure he'd left it. "Hey, did you see my jacket?"

"It was there when you went to the bathroom earlier," agreed Dean. They looked all around the diner booth, but couldn't find any sign of it. He groaned aloud and held his head in his hands. "It must have been _ketchup guy_!"

Sam looked at him in confusion.

"Some young guy leaned across the table and asked for the ketchup," explained Dean. "We spoke for a while -- he seemed nice -- but _he_ must've stolen your jacket."

Sam rolled his eyes, but then patted himself down with increasing anxiety. "_Shit_, the puzzle box was in the pocket."

"And that's what you're worried about? Not your phone or your wallet?" growled Dean, throwing down some cash on the table to cover the bill and glaring around the restaurant. "I can't see him, but he can't have got far."

They rushed out of the diner and looked left and right up the main road that cut through the town, but there was no one in sight.

"If he got in a car, he could be miles away by now," Sam complained, throwing up his hands in despair.

Dean broke into a slow smile as he held up his own phone. "Well, in that case, thank heavens for GPS," he said, tapping the flashing blue dot on the screen.

It was surprisingly near. They followed the trail down the street and around into a side alley. A young man in his early-twenties was gazing as if hypnotized at the puzzle box as it lay cradled in both hands, Sam's jacket draped over one arm. He looked up at their interruption, blinking blearily, his expression changing to one of alarm as they approached; he was considerably smaller in both size and build.

"_You!_" shouted Dean, his voice deepening in anger.

"Oh, hey, I just found this jacket," the guy babbled, starting to step backward.

Sam darted forward and snatched the puzzle box in one quick swoop. Meanwhile, Dean _growled_ and grabbed the man by the shirt, pushing him violently against the wall of the alley with a thump that knocked the breath out of the thief explosively. Dean held up his right fist, his arm ready to punch, as a warning in front of the man's face. "We better get our stuff back, _now_," he snarled.

Sam held up the cube, securely clutched in both hands. "It's okay, I've got it."

Dean's lip curled. "What about the rest of it?" he asked, punctuating his words by slamming the thief repeatedly into the wall.

"Oh, yeah," said Sam, visibly startled as he scurried to retrieve the rest of his belongings. He shrugged on the jacket and inspected the puzzle box carefully for any signs of damage. "He messed it up," he complained under his breath as his hands flew over cube's surface, moving and manipulating the sliding parts.

"He sure did," Dean nodded, without really listening, before turning back to the terrified thief. "You think you can steal from us, you punk?" he screamed in the man's face. Enraged rather than mollified by the man's terrified denials, he started punching, arms and fists swinging faster and faster.

Sam tutted with irritation as a fleck of blood splashed on his cheek. Another hit the side of the puzzle box. "Dean, that's enough," he snapped.

Dean laughed and stepped back, letting the badly beaten man drop heavily to the ground. The sound of agonized groaning inflamed him, and he darted forward again to start kicking at the prone body.

"Dean!" cried Sam sharply. "We've got everything back now. We should go before someone comes."

Dean nodded reluctant agreement. "You wait here, I'll go get the car," he announced. He gave the slumped body one more hard kick to the chest, grinning in satisfaction at the sharp sound of snapping bone. Then he turned and walked away.

Sam grunted absently, his attention already focused back on the puzzle box.

~#~

When they got back to the bunker, they found Castiel and Jack back from their trip and waiting for them. Any joy from a happy reunion was soon erased by the disturbing sight of the blood splatter across the Winchester's clothes and faces.

"What happened?" cried Jack, his eyes wide in panic, his hands hovering in the air around Sam as if to divine the location of an assumed injury. "Are you guys okay?"

Castiel took Dean's hands in his own, turning them over to inspect the torn and bruised knuckles. His lips and mouth tightened, but he said nothing as he ran his long fingers over them, healing them in a near-instant glow of bluish-white light.

"Thanks, Cas," said Dean with a wink, giving the angel a familiar pat on the shoulder.

Castiel nodded and stepped back, still silent, but his eyes were downcast, his expression serious.

"It's was nothing," explained Dean. "We just had a run-in with a bit of petty larceny, someone who thought he could make off with Sam's stuff."

"Oh no, Sam," said Jack, dismayed as the man in question stepped around and then past him, to wander off deeper into the bunker with barely a nod of greeting.

"It's okay, I got it back," said Dean, tilting up his chin and puffing out his chest in triumph. He seemed to pick up on the young man's distress. "Ah, don't worry about Gigantor, he's got a lot on his mind at the minute."

Castiel cleared his throat, a delicate sound that nevertheless echoed in the cold silence of the bunker. "That's...that's a lot of blood for a simple case of 'petty larceny'"

"It is, isn't it?" Dean's grin in response was feral, his teeth shining white in the stark lighting. "But you gotta show these people who's boss, slap 'em down sharp. Besides, the guy was asking for it."

"You seem to have been more than happy to provide it," intoned Castiel, his deep, gravel-like voice sounding like a dark dirge.

Dean's grin dropped for a second, only for the smirk to return along with an arched eyebrow. "Are you jealous, Cas? Next time, _I promise_ I'll give you a call so you can join in too." He turned and left, leaving Castiel and Jack to stare at each other in confusion.

"What... was that about?" breathed Jack after Dean was safely out of ear-shot.

"I don't know. However, they are rough men-"

_"People sleep peaceably in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf,_" interrupted Jack, closing his eyes as he recited the words from memory. "Yes, I know the quote. Actually, I'm pretty sure it was Sam who taught it to me. But even so... they were up against what, a _human_ robber? I don't think I've ever seen Dean so... well, he seemed _amused_ by it."

"I have," said Castiel, his face darkening as he remembered. "Before you were born." He shook himself. "But no, it couldn't be the same thing, the circumstances were very much different then..."

"And Sam didn't seem himself either," pointed out Jack, failing to hide his hurt feelings. "He seemed distant... numb to it."

Castiel shifted uncomfortably in position as if remembering a similar time that Sam, too, had behaved in such a way. "Perhaps he was merely... shocked... by the events."

Jack hummed a noise of skeptical agreement.

"We don't know the full details of what transpired," argued Castiel. "I'm sure there's a perfectly simple explanation, I shall go and speak to Dean," he added, squaring his shoulders and heading down the corridor to Dean's room.

Jack watched him depart with a faint shiver that he couldn't quite explain.

~#~

Jack had been hanging around the bunker's map room at a bit of a loss. He really wasn't used to his own company, and while not particularly a late riser, he certainly wasn't accustomed to being the first awake. Thinking on it, he still wasn't even sure if Castiel slept at all. Anyway, he'd never really noticed before how quiet the bunker could be.

He called a cheerful morning to Dean when he eventually appeared but didn't get much of a response until he passed the man a cup of coffee. "Have you seen Cas?"

Dean grunted and took a couple of mouthfuls of his drink. "Cas? Oh, didn't he say? He's been... called back to Heaven."

"Oh." Jack blinked in surprise. "No, he never mentioned that."

Dean slapped him on the shoulder. It seemed friendly, maybe, but it was hard enough to make Jack stumble. "Don't worry about it. I'm sure he'll be back... _eventually_. Anyway, I'm off out. Catch you later."

Confused, but silent, Jack watched him leave.

Bored, he helped himself to a cup of coffee from the pot, his first sip had him grimacing at the sour, acrid taste. He spat the mouthful into the sink. _I must have forgotten to empty the old grounds again_, he mused, as he tipped the pot's contents away.

Any further thoughts were lost at the sound of terrified screams echoing from down the corridor. Cursing at the realization that Dean was now long gone, Jack sprinted towards the source, which he realized was originating from Sam's room.

He had always been told quite firmly to knock before entering, especially after the last time he'd walked in on Dean that no one now talked about, but this time he burst straight in.

Sam was writhing in his bed, yelling out while clearly asleep; the bedsheets were damp and twisted around him like ropes. Jack rushed over and grabbed him by the shoulders, more trying to stop him from falling out of the bed than shaking him awake.

"Sam! It's okay, you're just having a bad dream," he cried, over and over until at last Sam's frenzied motions eased, and he opened his eyes.

"_I can hear it calling me!_" cried Sam. "Jack?" He seemed confused and disoriented as he looked around as if surprised by his surroundings. He sat up, leaning forward as he rubbed his hands repeatedly over his face and hair.

"It's okay, you're safe," assured Jack, sitting down on the side of the bed and stroking a comforting hand down Sam's back, feeling the man shaking beneath his touch. "It was just a nightmare."

"No, it was...." Sam seemed to take a moment to absorb that information and re-think what he was going to say. "Yes, it was horrible. I was... _drowning_."

"It's all over now," soothed Jack leaning in closer. He jolted when Sam grabbed hold of his free hand and gently, but firmly, pulled him closer.

"It was... awful," breathed Sam, his voice shaky. "Will you... stay with me? _Please?_"

The grip was tight and insistent, pulling Jack down to lie beside Sam. Jack was too flustered to complain, even as his cheeks bloomed crimson on noticing with considerable embarrassment that Sam was naked.

"You're so good to me," crooned Sam. "Such a good boy," he added as he wrapped Jack in his arms. Sam sighed and seemed to fall asleep in an instant.

Jack tried to control his breathing and his pounding heartbeat while oh-so-gradually leaning further and further back into the comforting wall of hard muscle behind him.

~#~

Jack woke to find himself enveloped by Sam, the man's limbs wrapped tight around him. He couldn't believe he'd even fallen asleep. He could feel the planes of Sam's bare chest pressing up behind him, and he silently cursed that he was still dressed. The thought that there were just a couple of thin layers of cotton separating them was too much to bear.

He gritted his teeth. This wasn't right. He doubted Sam felt the same way about him_. I mean, I'm just a kid, and he's a grown-up. A strong, powerful man. Okay, enough. Time to get up_. Blinking away his almost-tears, he gradually, reluctantly, eased himself out of Sam's embrace.

Sam's face was relaxed in sleep. _He's so handsome_, Jack thought. He flushed with guilt; Sam had always been so kind and so patient with him. _I mean, for a while I pretty much hero-worshipped Dean,_ he explained to himself, _but really when it came down to it. Sam was bigger and kinder and... aww._

Jack stepped away from the bed, so tempted, but scared to look lower down. _I definitely don't deserve Sam - but it's so unfair!_ He'd never been with anyone before, but he was sure he could make Sam happy!

_Oh god, he'd think I'm such a stupid kid_. Shamefaced, he crept from the room, closing the door carefully shut behind him so that it wouldn't make a sound.

"Walk of shame, huh?"

Jack was so startled he wasn't sure how he didn't manage to hit his head on the ceiling. He turned, his back pressed flat against the door to find Dean standing uncomfortably close in front of him.

"D-Dean. I was just- just helping Sam."

Dean smiled. Or rather, his lips curled to show his teeth, but the movement didn't make it as far as his eyes, which looked almost black in the dim light of the corridor. "Well, I bet you were. I reckon you've been sniffing around him for a while now."

Jack was suddenly very aware of an overwhelming need to pee and of how much his legs were now quaking.

"Just don't forget he was mine first," growled Dean, tapping Jack hard in the center of his chest. Jack was sure that it was going to leave a nasty bruise.

He didn't know how to take Dean. One minute the man would be extolling the virtues of family, the next, he'd be planning revenge and retribution. There was a lot of history between them, and he knew that Dean wasn't the type to forgive and forget.

Dean jerked his head forward, and Jack flinched with a fearful cry. He blinked back tears as he felt a thin, warm stream of urine leak down his leg.

"You're just a child," said Dean scornfully. "A baby. Go clean yourself up," he added, sending Jack sprawling along the corridor with another forceful shove.

Eyes near-blind from his streaming tears, Jack turned and ran.

~#~

Sam knew he was asleep, but it didn't help. He could see the strands of the present and how they twisted and turned, knotting themselves together to become the tapestry of their future. That single thread that tied all the others down until there was but one – was now a rope that stretched on for all eternity. It was already written, so it would be.

There was a voice that whispered its secrets and instructions in the back of his head. It had been there for a while, he realized. No matter how much he begged and pleaded, he knew there was nothing he could now do to stop it.

He felt himself carried away by a great wave, a tsunami of sensation and desire. He clung on by metaphorical fingertips for as long as he was able, but eventually, inevitably, it swept him away. As he felt himself die in that maelstrom, he knew in that moment it was just the weak part of him, not the whole of him, but he still mourned its passing.

He could see it all, how it would all end. Swallowed up by a desperate storm of eternal torment and ravenous hunger.

He dragged himself from the deluge, screaming himself hoarse with the effort of it. Chest heaving, he opened his eyes to see Dean staring down at him with a hard-eyed glare.

Dean raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a spiteful, mocking smirk. "So, you're... uh, pleased to see me?"

Sam, mortified by the mindless responsiveness of his own flesh, sought to cover himself with the sweat-soaked, tangled sheets.

"Don't be embarrassed," laughed Dean. "No, really, I'm impressed. I mean, it's not like you're getting any younger, and I literally just caught your boy toy scuttling off. Skittish little thing, isn't he?"

Sam frowned. "What's wrong with you? Jack's just a kid, he was just taking care of me after a nightmare."

"Interesting choice of words," snorted Dean. "And what's wrong with _me_? _You're_ the reason I'm upset. Don't think I've not seen the way you stare at him. I mean, how old is he really? _Three?_"

"It's... it's not like that," stammered Sam in what they both knew was a lie.

"So, what, do you like him more than me?" Dean threw up his hands in despair. "_Whatever_. It's not like I care. You'll just do what you want anyway like you normally do."

"Hey, have I done something to upset you?" cried Sam in a mix of offended pride and guilt.

"Why, do I _seem_ upset that you've cast me aside for some _child?_ After everything I've done for you, _everything_ I've sacrificed. I would do _anything_ to make you happy. Is it too much for me to want you to do the same for me?"

Sam watched in bewilderment as his brother turned his back on him and stormed out. "What the hell just happened?" he asked himself.

~#~

Freshly showered and dressed, Sam walked into the kitchen with some trepidation.

Dean and Jack were already there. Dean was cooking at the stove. Jack was sitting at the small kitchen table, finishing a plate of scrambled eggs. He could hear Dean speaking to Jack in a low tone, but he couldn't make out the words. In any case, they both stopped whatever it was they were talking about as soon he entered the room.

"Morning, Sammy," cried Dean in an overly loud, cheerful voice as if their conversation from the previous night had never happened. "Bacon's just about ready, you want your eggs scrambled or fried?"

"Poached," replied Sam, as he did every morning, cautiously taking a seat and waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Let me get you a coffee," offered Jack shyly, his gaze first twitching to Dean for a second as if seeking approval. His cheeks bloomed scarlet, and his eyes didn't... couldn't... meet Sam's own.

"No, it's fine," replied Sam awkwardly, although it was too late as the young man had already jumped to his feet, placing his empty plate on the counter.

Jack filled a mug and passed it to Sam with a timid smile. Sam could feel his blush travel up his face to the roots of his hair as their fingers accidentally brushed against each other as he took the offered drink.

"Just as you like it," said Jack in a voice so quiet that it was barely a whisper.

"Black as midnight, black as my soul," said Dean without looking round. The words had a sing-song quality to them so that it sounded like he'd recited a line of poetry.

Sam wasn't sure how to take that -- _was that some kind of obscure joke?_ \-- so he chose not to reply.

"Okay, you crazy kids," announced Dean, breaking the awkward silence and placing the plate of Sam's breakfast in front of him. Sam noted with curious concern how Jack flinched as Dean brushed past him. Sam felt something ugly coil tight in his chest as he observed the proprietary way Dean's hand lingered on the back of the younger man's neck

"I'm off out for a while, but I'm cooking tonight, so take it easy on the snacks," Dean added with an insanely obvious wink at Sam that was clearly meant to be some sort of euphemism.

Sam looked from Dean's receding back to Jack's brittle, overeager-to-please smile with an internal sigh, and he resolved to just let go of all the drama.

He still had a plate of food in front of him, so in the end, he decided it was best just to focus on his hunger.

~#~

Sam was sitting in the dark in the map room when the bunker's entrance door crashed shut, and Dean started stumbling his way down the stairs. _If he's trying to sneak in, then he's making a piss poor job of it_.

"I thought you said you were making dinner," said Sam, switching on the lamp beside him.

Dean froze in the sudden light. He broke into a feral grin and, dark eyes glinting, he made his way down the rest of the flight of steps and staggered over toward Sam. Sam's nostrils flared at the acrid stench of booze, sour sweat, and something else.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean drawled. "Yeah, something came up," he giggled. "I must've lost track of time."

"That was _three_ days ago," replied Sam, his voice cold.

"Oh, I'm sure you kept yourself busy," Dean mocked, lurching forward and making a grab for the puzzle box that sat on the table beside Sam.

Sam snatched the cube from his brother's fumbling grasp. "Urgh, you stink of sex," he complained.

Dean placed his hand on the chair's arms and leaned forward, looming over Sam, caging him in. He bowed his head down and pantomimed taking a deep sniff. "Ah, but you don't. What a shame. _Poor Jack_. Perhaps I should go comfort him for you?"

Sam erupted from his seat and, with a mighty shove from both arms, sent his brother sprawling several yards across the floor. He strode over and stared down at Dean with a look of utter disdain. "What's wrong with you, are you _jealous?_ You shouldn't be. We're _family_ you and me. We'll _always_ be together no matter what else happens!"

Dean groaned and lifted his head from the ground, which prompted another moan of pain. "Promise? Till death us do part an' all that?" There was a fear-like tremor behind the teasing words.

Sam shook his head in resigned amusement at his brother's foolishness, his anger mollified by the passive way his brother lay prostrate at his feet. _Has Dean become more emotional, or have I become less so?_

"Have you really not been paying attention all this time? Was having it pronounced by angels not enough for you? Death _and beyond_," Sam snorted. "Now go and clean yourself up, I'm off to bed." He paused in the doorway, cocking his head as the voice that had been whispering in his head grew louder. "But, you know what? First, I'm going to take your advice."

Dean looked at him in confusion.

Sam laughed, but it was without humor. "I've had enough of _right_ and _wrong_ and worrying about what people expect. I'm going to take what I _want_... what I _need_."

He gave the puzzle box one last, hard wrench that set off a cascade of clicking sounds that echoed throughout the bunker. "There, now everything's fallen into place."

The puzzle box twisted and turned in on itself, remaining at a fixed point in the air even as Sam moved his hand away. The frantic movement of the cube's sliding parts revealed an unnatural glow that emanated from its center and bathed Sam with a fetid, diseased light.

Sam basked in that light.

Dean started to make a move, but the voices -- which he only now realized had been whispering in his ear for some time -- bid him to stop, watch, and wait.

When Sam opened his eyes it was to reveal gaping holes, a sickening emptiness -- deeper than the liquid blackness that now filled Dean's own -- but which nonetheless gave a hint of something within that moved and squirmed.

Sam blinked, and it was gone.

~#~

Sam ached from the emptiness within him that needed... _demanded_... to be fed. Even as he strode into the kitchen, he knew it was a hunger that couldn't be satiated with mere food.

Jack was there. _Of course he is, these days it seems like he's always hovering around me_.

Sam's nostrils twitched. He was already changed enough by the alien presence within that they flared at the scent of lust and want wafting from the young man before him.

_Perhaps we can both get what we want_, Sam thought.

"You want something?" asked Jack, indicating the sandwich he was making.

"Yes," said Sam, moving into the young man's space. He moved closer, pressing Jack against the counter with the weight of his body, taking the breadknife from the boy's hand and, after a moment's thought, putting it to one side with just a shade of reluctance. He took a firm grip of Jack's shoulders and leaned down and whispered into Jack's ear. "I think you want something too." He could feel Jack shake beneath his hold. "Are you scared of me?"

"N-no," said Jack, his voice high and shaky.

"_Liar_. It's okay. _I like it_." Sam wasn't sure how much of that was the possessing force growing within him or how much was just him. He just knew that it felt good. _Well, maybe that's not quite the appropriate word_, he reasoned, but what did it matter since he'd already, irrevocably, surrendered himself to it?

"Come with me," he ordered, turning and walking the short distance to his room. He knew without needing to look around that Jack was following him, that he would do anything for Sam, for what he wanted.

Sam sat on the end of his bed and pulled Jack down towards him, sucking on Jack's lower lip, pulling it into his mouth with a playful nip. "Fuck, I could just eat you up," he declared, running his hands over Jack's body and reveling in the shivering quiver of the young man's flesh that his touch elicited.

"Yes," Jack stammered, his eyes widening in arousal while his hands roamed across Sam's chest with increasing confidence.

Sam enjoyed the worshipful attention as they cast each other's clothes cast aside in a near frenzy of long-restrained lust. He was already achingly hard, but this willing submission was the icing on the cake as he rutted himself against the younger man. He pushed Jack down on the bed and loomed over him, forcing the young man's legs further back towards his head until he was practically bent in half. Jack cried out in surprise, or maybe it was alarm. Sam didn't care.

Sam deepened the kiss, pulling Jack's tongue into his mouth, while his insistent cock breached the ring of his ass. Jack whimpered from the initial lack of lubrication, even as Sam forced himself in further. Unfeasibly, Sam could feel himself grow increasingly larger and, in response, Jack started to struggle with pain and panic. Sam only wrapped his arms tighter around the lithe body and pulled him closer, all the while pistoning deeper.

Jack started to shudder, his eyes rolling up in their sockets, his hips bucking and the gasps that came from his foaming mouth taking on a far different hue. Sam sucked harder in response, swallowing down the mindless, mewing sounds of pain and pleasure as Jack pawed at his flesh, rising up to meet each increasingly harder and frantic thrust, both of them unmindful of the strange sensations of splitting, merging, and of once again being torn asunder.

Things became truly weird as Jack starting to sink into Sam's flesh. _Or was it the other way around?_ It didn't matter, he had breached Jack's defenses, his very borders, and everything was Sam's for the taking.

_Everything_.

It was a feeling beyond description, beyond any simple orgasm he'd ever had in the past. He could feel Jack spread out across his skin, savor the taste of him on his lips and in each ragged breath he pulled into his lungs. He could taste him all the way down to his very soul and beyond. It all became too much for Sam's senses, and he blanked out from sheer pleasure for several exquisite moments.

When he was back in the room, Jack wasn't. The young man was gone.

_Or was he?_

He could feel Jack still, in his mind's eye. He could imagine prodding him and the young man writhing, flopping and flailing in mindless ecstasy at his touch. Sam groaned a low, guttural, animalistic sound. Oh, he was going to have to do this again.

_Soon_.

~#~

"What have you got for me?" Sam gurgled as Dean returned to the bunker from his latest hunting trip. These days, Dean flew strictly solo.

"Something from that diner you like," called Dean. He grunted as he balanced the weight of the load carried over one shoulder while he negotiated his way carefully down the staircase.

Sam lifted his head to draw in a long, shuddering breath through his nose. "Hmm, smells _bloody_."

"Yeah, well, I know what my Sammy likes. Besides, I had to rough her up a bit to get her in the trunk," explained Dean, letting the bound and gagged waitress flop heavily to the floor. He watched in detached amusement as, despite her weakened and disoriented state, she struggled in vain against the insistent probing of Sam's touch. It didn't last long.

Dean bent down to sweep up the remaining scraps of clothing, paying no mind to either the screams or the groans of pleasure that still echoed through the bunker. "You know, we'll never be able to get you out of here if you keep eating like this," he said, absently licking the blood from his fingers.

Sam gave one great laugh that sent shuddering waves roiling through the vast fleshy bulk of his body. "Oh, Dean. My reach is already _well_ beyond the bounds of this place," he snorted. "What do you see when you look at me with those black eyes of yours?" he asked with honest curiosity.

Dean's bright green eyes changed to the darkest black-within-black. He paused for a moment as he tried to make sense of the deeper sight that this enhanced vision gave him into Sam's new nature.

"Tentacles _everywhere_, spreading out in all directions. I can see you stretching down almost as far as Hell itself. And the people... or what's left of them... all squirming around inside you... I can hear them screaming to escape," breathed Dean with a shudder. "It's _beautiful_."

Sam gave a sad smile. Ironically, the more Dean's soul was twisted, the less he could be trusted. He was sure his brother couldn't even trust himself. "It's time for you to join them," he decided.

"Will it hurt?" asked Dean with only the faintest interest, as if asking after the weather.

"Oh, yes," assured Sam, with an obscene leer. "It'll be _excruciating_. But at least then we can be together forever," he added. Even before he'd finished speaking, long fleshy shoots extended from Sam's corpulent mass, wriggling through the air as they made their way unerringly towards his brother.

Dean stood in place and allowed the tendrils to wrap themselves tightly around him as a prelude to them then forcing their way into every orifice. They wormed their way into his body, flexing and pulsing as they swelled and bulged, ripping and rippling while shoving and heaving their way deeper.

Under the onslaught, Dean's body was raised high in the air and flopped about like a ragdoll, his agonized cries of terror now reduced to mindless mews. Bones and tendons cracked and popped as his body was pulled inside out by the slithering tentacles now retracting, and the whole bloody, oozing mess was sucked, slurping back inside Sam's enormous bulk.

Sam moaned and shuddered, lost in his own pleasure as he feasted on the emotions that he drank from Dean. Emotions that he could no longer experience himself but that flowed like a mighty river within Dean, albeit tainted with hellfire, from surprise, anger, fear, sadness, love, and finally to sacrifice. As he absorbed Dean's body within his own flesh, he could feel his metaphorical wings spreading as he blossomed fully into the Outer God possessing him.

~#~

Jody had finally got the girls to stop arguing over whatever the hell it was and had just been on the verge of sitting down when the house phone rang. She was sorely tempted to let it keep ringing -- after all, it was probably just another call center scammer anyway -- before lifting the receiver with a bone-weary sigh.

"Sheriff?" a familiar-sounding voice spoke to her.

"Castiel, is that you?" It might have taken her a moment, but she'd know those gravel tones anywhere.

"I think something's happened to the Winchesters," said Castiel without any further preamble. He sounded more intense than usual, if that was even possible.

"What is it? Aren't you with them?"

There was the faintest pause before he continued. "I... I'm not certain. I just... I have a terrible feeling. I need to go see them, but the whole area seems to be warded against me. I'll have to find some other way of getting through. Can you get to them sooner?"

Jody had the strongest sense that there was a lot more to the story than she was being told -- _isn't there always_ \-- but she could hear the desperation and barely-restrained panic in Castiel's voice. She recognized it far too well from similar calls she'd made herself to Sam and Dean about her girls. "Of course, Cas," she agreed.

Jody placed the handset on the receiver, only belatedly wondering where Castiel was and how extensive the wards must be if _she_ was considered the closest to the bunker. _Whatever it is, it must be bad, so best not dawdle_, she decided, grabbing her keys and trudging out to her car.

Lost in her own thoughts, she never noticed the thick, green tendrils rising up out of the ground behind her.

~#~

Castiel arrived back at the bunker, pushing the door open with an overwhelming sense of dread. It hadn't been an easy or comfortable journey; in point of fact, it had been the slowest, most unpleasant experience of his existence so far.

Whatever was stopping him from flying across the vast surrounding area was centered on the bunker, but didn't seem to prevent him from traveling by more mundane methods. As he'd driven nearer he'd found the landscape progressively... _changed_. At first it had just been fewer people and increasing numbers of abandoned cars, but then he'd seen field after field of desiccated crops. No birds, no insects, no signs of any life except the odd impression of a churning motion in the ground he thought he'd caught a couple of times from the corner of his eye.

Lebanon had been deserted. There was not a single soul left to witness the eddying wind piling up hills of trash and dust against the abandoned buildings.

"Ah, Castiel," called Sam, his voice echoing throughout the bunker. "You finally found your way back. Just how far away did Dean banish you, exactly?"

Castiel paused on the last step of the stair leading down, as his eyes widened in shock and horror at what he saw: Sam's face, his features bloated and stretched, embedded within an immense, pulsating, writhing mass of flesh that filled the entirety of the large room. In some places his body was almost like liquid, and _things_ moved and squirmed within it.

"Look at you, the pretty little moth to my flame," gloated Sam as Castiel cautiously made his way further in. "You should join me," he giggled. "Well, you _will_ join me. But willingly is _so_ much better."

"Why would I wish to do that?"

"The pleasure," Sam groaned with a long, obscene sigh. "And the exquisite pain," he gurgled. "_Any_ sensation is welcome when you've felt _nothing_ for eons."

The moment stretched out between them as Sam was momentarily lost in the horror of that recollection. Castiel almost sympathized; he still had a dim memory of what it was like in the Empty, and too the early days of Creation before humankind.

"It won't take me long to reopen the gate in Stull," said Sam at last. "And then I'll have Hell too, then from there Purgatory's next." He gazed at Castiel expectantly.

"You'll never get into Heaven," declared Castiel hotly, much to Sam's satisfaction.

"What, that sad little sandbox in the children's park? Talk about a _Freudian slip_..."

Castiel's face hardened.

"You all carry Heaven within you," said Sam airily. "I'll get in _that_ way. We Outer Gods have our means..."

"You certainly seem to talk a lot," said Castiel in a voice now cold with barely restrained fury.

"All flesh will be mine. Sam... _I... we... _used to be such an aesthete but take away the soul and we're like everyone else. Don't look at me like that, you know what I mean. You're lying to yourself if you deny that you're drawn to it too. You prissy angels couldn't wait to wallow down here in the muck... that was always your side's problem."

"We are what we fear," admitted Castiel.

"I fear nothing," snorted Sam, in mild amusement. "But then, I am the manifestation of the great Void so... maybe you're right? _Well done you_," he added in a patronizing tone.

Undaunted, Castiel drew his angel-blade and held it out at the ready for battle.

"He misses you, you know," said Sam, apropos of nothing.

"Who?"

"Dean," said Sam. _As if there was anyone else_.

Castiel visibly sagged in relief. "He's still alive then?"

Sam smirked. "Through me... _within me_... It all becomes a bit mixed together after a while."

A thick, vine-like tendril thrust itself from out of the ground behind Castiel and slapped the sword from his grip. His last sight was of Sam's tentacles tearing through him, seeking out his Grace in a frenzied blur, diving into his very core of being and from there on into Heaven.

Sam listened in rapt attention as the screams rose to a roaring crescendo beyond anything a mere human's vocal cords could muster. It was a true choir of the spheres that now sang out in a radically new definition of worship... to _him_.

_Cas has quite a set of lungs on him, but I guess it stands to reason he'd have a voice like an angel..._

It really was a song of exquisite torment, a thing of rare, excruciating beauty in a base and brutish universe. All too soon, it was over, the piercing wails of terrified anguish trailing off into silence forever as he gobbled it all down.

"I'm the new god now," Sam burped.

_And it was (almost) good_.

**THE END**

~#~

** _"Searchers after horror haunt strange, far places" - H. P. Lovecraft_ **

(;,;)


End file.
